


On shaking ground

by wanderingsmith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-09
Updated: 2008-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Common Ground epilogue</p>
            </blockquote>





	On shaking ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chiarahhue](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=chiarahhue).



> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.
> 
> AN: giftfic for chiarahhue: a missing scene or epilogue for common ground with some sparkiness! Doesn't even have to be sparky smut but sparky tenderness and I would like some RST!
> 
> -So I'm pulling a power-that-be blinder and ignoring that TRW was just before this... might tackle it again later with that lens in place.. but for now.. deadline waits for no one
> 
> Ha! 30th Atlantis fic posted! lol
> 
> Warning: I write Carson to my phonetics. You have a problem with that, don't read this.

There are some things you just don't ask.

Smoothing her thumb over the worn metal of her father's watch, Elizabeth remembered her mother's expression when he died.  It wasn't something she'd focused on then, too wrapped up in her own pain, in the step by step details of getting herself and her mother through it all.  But some part of her mind must have paid close attention for it to come back so clearly now.

Sorrow, pain, shrinking in on herself as though to hide; hopeless loneliness.  Yet she had risen up again, had lived on.  Elizabeth had always admired her mother's strength, her calmness in the face of life's adversity.  And now once again, she wished that she knew the older woman's secret.  Knew that she would also rise up again after losing John.

It wasn't that she hadn't faced the thought before, she had; had even thought that it had already happened, a time or two.  But this time.. this time was different.  Most likely, her inner counsellor said, because she'd watched him be tortured.  Not merely seen the result; stood and *watched*.  Made the choice that resulted in it..  Somehow that just hadn't left much room to hide from herself.

She'd forced herself to concentrate; there were things she had to do.  Ladon still to deal with, a rescue still to accomplish.  And she did; she managed to continue to stand, walk, respond to her people.. most of the time.  But now hope was no longer at her side, no longer guiding her; no longer strengthening her.  Watching John die slowly in front of her had.. taken away the fictions that had protected her in the past, when his leaving bad been sudden, out of sight or just plain *still fightable*!  Having the harsh reality pounded in, and then pounded in again on the fresh, un-healable injury, had slowly but surely dug right to the bottom of her soul.  

But she'd stood.  Like her mother at her father's funeral, she had *stood* to the last.

And now...  Now there wasn't even the need to get things done to keep her strong.  Everything was in motion.  All she could do was wait.  And in the waiting, acknowledge what was coming.  Assuming he still lived -assuming they *found* him even!-, all she would be able to do would be sit by his side, probably over his harsh objections or silent avoidance if she knew John Sheppard at all, while his over-strained body slowly gave up.  Could she possibly do for him as he'd done for Sumner?  As she knew from his own lips that he would prefer?  What did you say to a man you were so close to, and yet so far from, when there *were* no tomorrows -to lay hopes on, to wait for-.  No help she could arrange for. 

No hope.  And in the emptiness of that loss, in his echoing screams of pain -in the last words he'd spoken-, she could no longer ignore just how much of that soul that was being dug through had gotten meshed in with him.  Depended on him to function correctly.  She would live; she knew she had to. Could not face her parents or him on the other side if she didn't.  But she could no longer *see* it, could no longer conceive of a single rational plan of action for herself.  A tired, lonely, worn out voice whispered 'I don't *want* to!'

How did her mother do it?  She had been married, in love, for 40 years.  *How* did she take another breath?

There was a guilty temptation in the back of her mind, an often-denied memory of another person who had lost, or thought they had.  Rather than be responsible and adult, she could bury all the pain and fear under anger; vengeance.  Put all her strength in finding the man responsible for this, because she somehow doubted he'd be caught today.  In killing him ruthlessly.  And if she still had strength left.. well, the wraith were also responsible...

Anything to make up for the horrified guilt that didn't care how much John had ordered -and later nodded **approval** of- her not yielding.

So easy.  One little decision; let fury consume her, consume her agony.  John of all people would understand...  So much easier; her eyes burned as she stared at her mangled reflexion in the metal she held.

"Incoming wormhole!"

Elizabeth's head rose, heart clenching tight.  John; a soft whisper at the back of her mind.  John.  John.

"Ronon's IDC, ma'am."

"Drop the shield."  Her voice, cold and dull.  John; the litany continued in her mind as she walked as if in a dream toward the jumper bay.  Memories floating to the surface to jerk her emotions: 'I can get us into all sorts of trouble' 'Happy birthday' 'How many Sheppards do you know' 'On my command authority-' 

John.  It was the dying who were supposed to see their lives flash... Why was she seeing his?

The jumper hatch was just rising as she walked up, still unable to grip reality, everything moving too slowly to be real...  The whine of the raising mechanism was almost a dirge in her protectively unfocused mind as the widening gap yawned dark and deathly.  Death or life, was there a difference anymore?  She would be strong; could not betray *his* strength as he'd suffered.  But was there any point?  Life.  Death.  Death.  Death.

Her thoughts went silent with a last broken whisper of 'John' as a shadow showed in the opening.

\-----------------------------------

John was ignoring Rodney's continuing mutters of 'Younger!', concentrating instead on shutting the jumper down.  Disturbed himself with the sudden reversal in his condition.  Disturbed at an even deeper level by having someone who should be his enemy... suddenly enter a grey zone.  He'd meant what he'd told the wraith, if they met again, he *would* shoot... but he would forever wonder too.

More than anything, he wanted to talk to Elizabeth; have her calmness settle him, her strange confidence in him ground his twitching feelings.

The last thoughts he remembered having before he (damn it!) fell asleep were worry and grief that she'd had to watch him be tortured; he could still hear her shouting for Kolya to stop through the pain shooting up his body.  And more grief at the forever-lost, he'd thought, chance at a more intimate relationship someday.  And now.  He rather thought that she would like, deep down, the idea that he had escaped with the help of Kolya's other victim.  Even if they both got in trouble with the Air force for letting the creature go free.

As the familiar scent of Atlantis filled the jumper, he stood up, snapping his gun into its hook automatically and stepping next to Ronon as the marines disembarked.  Looking beyond the opening absently as his friends bantered behind him while he kept his nerves buried, he froze when he saw Elizabeth waiting.  At first he couldn't even say what was so subtly wrong with her expression, but then as he saw her barely acknowledging the men walking by her, he recognized the stiff, pale features as bleakness.  Strength surviving through lost hope.

Damn Kolya to all nine hells, anyway!

\-----------

She watched the soldiers walk by her, looking confident but subdued; not yet in mourning.  Which meant he'd been found; and he lived.

He was alive! 

She could not deny the painful joy she felt now, the hope of speaking with him that she'd denied having before.  Every moment, even if a moment was all they had; every moment she could have with him was precious.  To be cherished; she could admit that now.  Had no choice but to admit that.  He was just going to have to deal with having her at his side because she could feel greedy stubbornness stiffening her failing strength.

She resisted the urge to step forward and try to enter the jumper through the line of marines rather than wait; they were almost done, simpler to stand here and remind herself not to expect the John she had watched cross the horizon less than a day ago.  Instead fixing the last fuzzy image they'd had of him in her heart.  His eyes would still be John, his voice; that was all she could hope for. 

\-----------

John wanted to go to her and hug her and damn any consequences, as she had once done for him... but she was holding herself strong and he couldn't be the reason she broke in front of their people.  And so he hesitated as the last man stepped in front of him to get off.  She was going to be shocked when she saw him... for a second he was tempted to have one of the others -Teyla, Carson- go to her and tell her while he waited inside.  Give her a chance to- But then Ronon grunted at his lack of movement and shoved him into moving.  He heard Teyla chastise the big man as he stumbled forward; then Elizabeth looked up and saw him.

\-------------------------

He's...!!  She couldn't even process the information, wide eyes fixed on his face; on his healthy, unhurt, never more gorgeous than now, face.  John...!

\-------------------------

She was still rooted to the spot as he hurried forward and touched her hand gently, invaded her space to stand in front of her and shield her from the sight of bystanders as her slowly-brightening eyes followed his.

Worried even as she started to smile, he wasn't sure if he was unconsciously reading something in her or transferring his own feelings when he started hearing her desperate voice in his mind, demanding 'Stop! Stop..'.   Either way, John made his voice as soft as he could, "I'm OK."

Something was wrong.  She was smiling and nodding, saying something about always landing on his feet.. but she wouldn't touch him.  Her eyes avoided his now; skipped over his attempt to communicate silently, turned to his team as soon as they appeared and asked for a briefing...  Never meeting his eyes.  Her voice.. brittle?  Something was wrong.

\------------------

Even after admitting in the briefing that he seemed fine, Carson still insisted on dragging John through a battery of tests before finally declaring him a healthy 40-year-old again.  No worse for the temporary extra 40 years of wear.

By then it was late enough, after the very long day everyone had had, that he debated waiting until tomorrow to find Elizabeth.  But in the end he couldn't shake the first picture he'd had of her on his return.  Couldn't shake his unsettled feeling, which had amplified exponentially with Elizabeth's uncharacteristic distance.

He turned toward her quarters, hoping he wasn't imagining things.  Wasn't about to wake her from well-deserved sleep just because he needed a smile and a touch to reassure him after a bad day...

He finally stood in front of her door, biting his lip and still not sure.  He didn't usually chase her down in her room, usually considered her off-limits and taking care of herself if she'd found the wisdom to get her rest...  But then she wasn't usually forced to watch torture.  Didn't usually let pain show through her leader's mask in the presence of anyone other than friends.  He straightened and jerkily made himself knock on the door.  Only then thinking that he really should have an excuse ready to give for being here...

He heard her voice through the door after a few seconds, sounding... rough.  *Tear*-roughened.  Damn.  He instinctively stepped closer, reaching to touch the cold material between them.. trying to reach her.  He tapped his earpiece, not wanting to yell to be heard, instead making his voice soft, not bothering to hide the worry, "Elizabeth?  It's me, open the door."

\-------------------

Elizabeth closed her eyes when he spoke in her ear, barely holding back a sob.  She'd tried to keep working after.. John.. had returned, but she'd had to give up; had barely made it to her room before all the emotions she'd kept repressed during the day had attacked her.   She couldn't have said what it was that was killing her more but she'd collapsed on her bed and sobbed, feeling a ball of pain getting harder and harder inside her.  There were moments she couldn't breathe, desperately straightened her chest against the tightness and the pain, and tried to gulp air.   Moments she suddenly quieted, mentally floating in emptiness until without explanation the tears started again and let the pain come back up.

The knock on her door had stuttered her mind, dragged her thoughts kicking and screaming through the morass as she tried to clear her voice to something that could be passed as normal. Tried to remember Atlantis.  Work.  Responsibility.  Elizabeth Weir.

She would have stopped and thought about who it had to be if she could.   There was, after all, only person who would seek her out at this point; anyone else would have paged her.

"I know you're there Elizabeth, I can hear you breathe.  *Please* open the door."

She tried to find her voice again when she heard the rising urgency in his.  But the instant of adrenaline-fed clarity that had come with the shock of hearing a knock was gone and she wrapped her arms around the pain trying to tear her apart again, the room fading behind the twisted mirror of the tears filling her eyes.

\----------------

John's heart froze when he heard the harsh sound of a halted sob.  He was mentally reaching for Atlantis before his hands could even fist in automatic fury at the damned cruel universe, demanding the city open the door, overriding the very privacy security *he*'d insisted on.

Then he had his arms around her without really registering the steps in between.  Pressing her face to his shoulder and stroking her back, whispering half-broken reassurances as her hands lifted to bunch at his shoulders and she cried brokenly.  "It's okay, everything's okay, Elizabeth. Shhh, shhhh."  He had no time to think of how uncomfortable he was providing comfort, too busy feeling the rising tension in the woman he held, feeling worry and sorrow and the absolute need to make her better.  To bring back her strength-

"No!"  The half-sob and half-scream preceded her pulling violently away from him, hitting the solid circle of his arms that he'd reflexively dropped around her waist to keep hold of her.  Whether it was the imprisonment or more of the same emotions that had made her break out in the first place, her hands turned to fists and pounded on his chest, making him grunt in surprise, not only at the very idea of Elizabeth hitting him, but at the strength that almost shifted his unprepared body.

"Nnot alright!  Not right!  Hurt him!  They *hurt* him!  I can't *do* this! Can't can't can't!  Hurts..."

He was going to be black and blue and sore as hell tomorrow, but John let her beat the pain out.  Just held her waist and stroked gentle circles through her shirt; trying to soothe.  Keeping his chest muscles tensed to minimize any chance of real damage and to keep his footing through the assault; kept his head back to avoid marks that would need public excuses -would make her feel worse once she recovered-.  His heart hurting more from seeing *her* pain and knowing he couldn't protect her, than his body ever could.

\------------

Why didn't she feel relief?  Why couldn't she be thankful and carry on instead of this unfocused, bottomless *anger*, and **guilt**; and hurt..   Oh god it *hurt*!  He was *right there* and yet the twisting agony was still ripping through her chest.  She could barely breathe, beating on the first surface her fists found in time with the waves of pain and loss that wracked her.

"My fault..  Hurt him.  Hurt hurt hurt..."

\-----------

It took interminably long minutes, but she finally gripped his jacket instead of hitting and John warily slid one of his hands up to her shoulder blade and pulled her no-longer-resisting body tightly to him as her tears flowed, silent now except for sharp little cries every so often, her face tucked in his neck un-protestingly.  He could feel the hot dampness of her tears on his skin, her uneven breath as her hands repeatedly clenched, pulling the material of his shirt tight over his arms.  "Everybody's okay.  Everybody's home.  You did *good*."   His head was already bent over her shoulder to keep her that much closer, and it an unconscious automatic for his lips to press gently to the skin of her neck; any little bit of contact to get through to her, "I'm okay."  It felt strange to say out loud that it was his pain that was hurting her.  Strange to imply that he was that important to her.

She mumbled jerkily in response, reassuring him with the fact that she was sensible again; thinking again, no matter how tear-roughened her voice, "Should have let Ladon go home earlier-"

He interrupted firmly, "No.  You had *no* damned reason to trust *him*.  Of all people."  Damned Genii.

She shook her head, something making the tension rise in her again, "But there was no good he could do here-"

Damn it, he just wasn't good at this comforting stuff.  He rubbed circles on her back, hoping she wasn't about to lose it again, murmuring reassuringly, "Elizabeth-"

Her tension broke then and she wailed brokenly, scaring him, pulling herself even tighter to him, "I *wanted* to trade him!"

John relaxed a little, shifting her gently, bringing her head around so he could press his lips to her temple, could speak into her ear as her shoulders shook with choked sobs, "But you *didn't*.  I knew you wouldn't.  You have no idea how much it means to me that you honoured my decision.   That that bastard didn't get the satisfaction of winning."  It was so very wrong to see her like this, painful to think that she had reached the end of her strength; to listen to the faint whimpers still under her breath.  He whispered as soothingly as he could, "You did everything right, Elizabeth."

She continued to mumble ragged bits of pain and fear for a while, but he rocked her and mumbled his own litany of reassurance; ignoring the burning in his eyes and the murderous fury jabbing at him.  When he got his hands on that damned Genii bastard...!

She finally started to relax and slumped onto him. When he felt the subtle shift in her breathing that heralded sleep, he shifted her to face her bed, feeling her pull back from him as she woke back up.  He saw the glance she threw at the thing though, fear and hatred, and he got the feeling she was planning to just stay up; avoid nightmares.  But he knew she'd already been awake too long.  So he didn't let her pull completely away from him, instead walking her gently forward with an arm at her waist.  When she stiffened and turned a weak version of her questioning frown on him, he hesitated, fighting between the habit of stepping back when Elizabeth put him on the spot and the worry that she was still not back to her usual strong self and needed some TLC; whether she could admit it or not.

Swallowing quickly, admitting to himself that leaving her alone after finding her so broken wasn't something he could do, he tried to ask her to let him help with a softly begging tone, "You need sleep, Elizabeth.  I'll keep the nightmares away, alright?"

  
Elizabeth still felt lost, far too lost to stand up to worried puppy eyes.  She'd almost managed to refrain from reaching up and touching him, was about to reply even, when the flashback hit her; literally hit her chest and made her search for air for a second while the fuzzy image of his exhausted, aged features mixed with the reality...  "Elizabeth?"  He stepped closer as he spoke and the mirage passed, the difference in distance forcing her mind to differentiate reality.  But her hand had bypassed her orders to stay still and had already reached up, just barely touching the familiar smooth skin of his cheek.  The warmth and health -youth!- she could feel through her fingertips, and the affection in his eyes were enough to make her lips tremble with more tears.  She was too tired to deal with this.  Would end up blubbering all over her second-in-command all over again if she didn't...

Before she could pull back and firmly get back on her mental feet, John pressed her palm flat on his jaw, giving her a crooked grin, "I knew you'd come for me, you know.  Made me keep on fighting, no matter what.  Think I even convinced the wraith of it in the end."

Elizabeth shook her head, refusing to accept the undeserved comfort, "We would have been too late."  If he hadn't managed to make common ground with their enemy... she shuddered.

He frowned, pressing her hand even more tightly to him, "But you weren't.  I'm alive.  I'm here and we will fight on together.  Just like we always have."

Held to his skin, her sensitive palm could feel the prickles of his stubble biting her as he spoke; had a faint memory of feeling the same thing when Phebus had used her body.  Had far less faint memories of noticing all too avidly how quickly the shadow appeared during the day; of wondering as she fell asleep if he'd shave it before...  Damn, her mind was wandering again!  Soft voice and warm skin and undemanding affection when she was so exhausted-

"Come on Elizabeth, let me help.  Please?"  *Too* exhausted.  His all-too-practised wheedling tone had her nodding without her real consent.

  
John didn't give her time to take back her answer, kissed her palm and hurriedly got them moving toward the bed again.  He *was* just planning to tuck her into bed and then sit besides it while she slept, but after laying down on top of the covers and putting her earpiece on the bedside table, she looked at him and silently held out her hand.  He swallowed nervously but didn't wait for her to think better of it;  took her hand and sat down besides her before undoing his boots.   Toeing them off and shoving them under the bed felt almost unreal, more so somehow, than laying down in Elizabeth's bed and turning his head to look at her.

Even though she was looking right at him, it wasn't Elizabeth's usual aware and analyzing glance; he had a feeling she wasn't really registering his presence at all.  "'Lizabeth?" he reached over, sliding an arm around her to tug her up against him, "Com' 'ere."  When she didn't argue or stiffen up, instead cuddling up to him with only a remnant of hesitation, John gave up his own tentativeness and wrapped his arms around her.  He took his first deep breath since he'd gotten to Atlantis when Elizabeth's head snuggled into the crook of his arm and her body went heavy with sleep.

Laying there quietly stroking her back, he could feel his own strain easing, until, that is, it occurred to him that if *he* hadn't needed her, she would have faced these demons alone.   All he might have known tomorrow was that she hadn't slept well.  And wasn't *that* just a thought to give him a permanently tight gut...

Could he face another mission, another morning after wondering if she was breaking?  Breaking because of him?  Why the hell did they have to live like this anyway?  At the very bloody damned least they were friends; and friends should be there for each other.  Feeling stubbornness solidify in him, John tapped his earpiece, gently laying a hand over Elizabeth's exposed ear.  He whispered, hoping she'd continue sleeping, "Chuck?   Get me a channel to Teyla, Rodney and Carson."

"Channel established, sir."

"Thanks.  Carson?   You are hereby making me take a couple days off to make sure I'm recovered.  And Elizabeth is taking a couple days to get some much needed rest.  Teyla, Rodney, I'm trusting you to watch over Atlantis; and make damn sure nobody starts 'talking' or I will personally beat them to a shit."  The whisper was hard to maintain at the last, but he did, *making* himself relax when she responded to his tensing body by stirring.

"Of course, John.  Take good care of Elizabeth, I will watch for rumours." Teyla clicked off before he could thank her.

"If ye need anythin' lad..."

"Thanks Carson.  Rodney?  Don't-"

"I'll be good,"  He sounded so subdued that John actually believed him, "Is.. Is Elizabeth alright?  I *tried*-"

John watched her still tear-spiked lashes shadowing too-pale skin as she resettled under his soothing strokes, "She just needs a break Rodney.  Teyla told me how you tried to help her.  Thanks, it's good to know you'll be there if..."

"Yeah.  Anyway, good night."

"We'll *all* be there lad.  Make sure her alarm is off and 'ave a good night."

\-----------------------------------

Elizabeth woke slowly, her mind hazy with more than simple sleep, her body warm and a little too heavy.  She didn't bother to raise her head at first; she knew Atlantis was there, knew she always had work to do.  But her alarm hadn't rung, her earpiece hadn't squawked and no one was paging her; and she simply had no mental momentum to move. 

There was an odd, 'centered' calm in her hazy mind that she couldn't remember being there before.  Acceptance of... something. As strange and not-quite-herself as she felt though, she wasn't worried...

It took movement next to her to make her aware that she wasn't alone, to make the memory of the day before become real rather than a faint, unimportant part of the whole of her mind.  John disappearing, Ladon, Kolya, the wraith; breaking down.  John taking care of her.  Somehow the memories weren't pointed, didn't hurt, even as she finished assembling the scenario that led to her sleeping with her arm across her second-in-command's waist. 

Something like meditation, the floating mental calm she felt was restful.

So was the faint sound/feeling of John's heartbeat against her skull; the sound of a soft grunt as he dreamt.  She wasn't usually a calm sleeper, how had he managed to keep her tucked into his side all night?  Not that it mattered.  The curiosity was as idle as the little strokes her fingers were taking on a patch of skin she'd found access to between his shirt and pants..

There was an unimportant voice trying to reason with her that she wasn't supposed to do this.  Shouldn't continue to maintain this intimacy now that she was alright again.  Which she was, she couldn't deny that.  The emotional wringer had left its mark in the wiped-out, cottony feeling in her mind, but the fresh base under it was solid; she knew she could go to work right now, and she knew that soon the cotton would solidify and get populated with the thoughts and feeling that made up Elizabeth Weir.

But.. maybe not quite as she was.  When her elbow felt achy from its long time stretched out and she bent it, her hand automatically stayed under John's shirt, ending up continuing its stroking over his ribcage; crinkly hair tickling her inner wrist.  When his arm tightened around her and he mumbled "'Li'Beth'" she remembered clearly the expression in his eyes as he'd taken care of her; and unlike other days, today she didn't worry, didn't pull back, didn't deny.  Sometime in the night, sleeping surrounded in care, with the memory of undemanding.. 'love' settling into her emotionally drained thoughts, at some point she'd accepted it.  That was the odd feeling of having accepted something she'd woken with.  John loved her.  And she needed him too much to deny them both anymore.

Nothing else was going to be as simple as waking up like this; the nightmares would come at some point, for both of them, and anger, fights and trouble too.  But deep inside, he was already in; she'd already made the decision.  Scared little voices couldn't move the foundations that had been laid when she wasn't awake to sabotage them.

And so she stayed where she was.  Awake but not really thinking, her senses slowly starting to take a lazy interest in the world; starting and ending with the warm body next to her, but somewhere in the middle, there was also the awareness of light on an eyelid, warmth on skin that wasn't touching John.  Eventually curiosity woke and poked at her to give it more data.

She opened her eyes slowly, meeting a fully lit room.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen this much sunshine in here, but she knew it meant it was late morning.  There should have been a horde of people banging on her door; or at least shouting on the PA.  She reluctantly thought it through and came to the conclusion that a certain person with hair issues should be questioned first.

  
There was nothing like stealthy movements to trigger a soldier's reflexes.  John snapped awake when he felt a hand trying to creep across his skin.  Doing no more than tensing, he took fast inventory of his senses and memory and computed 'Home - safe.  Elizabeth - bed - hand - chest'; and started smiling as he opened his eyes.  "Good morning."  He tried to clear the gravel from his voice as he lifted his arm to let her up; shivering as her hand stroked his belly on its way out of his shirt.  Seeing the peaceful if small smile on Elizabeth's face went a long way toward reassuring him that she was better.  Having her lean over him with a mock scowl finished the job.

"You told them I was taking time off, didn't you?"

It might only have been *mock*-annoyance, but it rubbed a sore spot so he frowned stubbornly, grumbling, "You needed it,  Elizabeth.  You haven't *taken* a day off in a month and half!  And that was only half a day because you-"  He blinked in shock when she covered his mouth with her hand.

"Thank you."  Once she'd interrupted his tirade, she lifted her hand back off and went back to leaning over him, smiling happily.

He stared into the tenderness in her expression, trying to read what was going on; she rarely let him catch that look, and it never lasted more than a  few seconds...   But this time she just kept right on looking, scrutinizing him.  He didn't know how to deal with it, so he fell back on their old mainstay: humour.  Hoping she'd give him a straight-line as to what he was *supposed* to do...  Permission to simply enjoy would be good.  "Rodney says I look younger."

Her eyes stopped travelling and focused on his before she shook her head, "He *would*.  You're *healthy*, that's all I care."

He smirked gently and decided to throw his pride on his interpretation of that look, "You'd have taken me older?" 

Elizabeth's smile faded, a hand lifting to his cheek, above the stubble, in a whispering touch he remembered from the night before.  He could get used to that, he thought as she focused on her fingers.  When he saw her eyes start to darken with pain again though, he brought his hands up to stroke her lower back, hoping to keep the bad memories from taking hold again.  "Elizabeth?"

She blinked a few times, and then her expression cleared and softened, looking at him with growing strength now, Dr. Elizabeth Weir reappearing before his reassured eyes, "I'd take you any way at all, John."

He grinned softly in response, tugging on her side so she'd lay back down next do him as he turned to face her.  That was a damn sight closer to 'I love you' than he'd ever expected to have given to him and he could only hope she knew he returned the feeling.  For once *hoping* his eyes were betraying him, rather than trying to keep it from happening. 

Maybe they did because her finger were back to tracing patterns on his cheek.  If he hadn't been so thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being petted and cared for, he'd have teased her for how tactile she suddenly was.

"Why did you come here last night, anyway?"

He blinked at the unexpected question, remembering now that he hadn't come up with an idea for that last night.  Looking at her, still tired and worn out, and having just spoken so honestly, he couldn't lie.   Admitting he'd needed to see her was a truth she deserved after he'd seen her exposed.  He shrugged, not quite brave enough to look at her while he said it, "I just wanted to talk."

Elizabeth could feel his tension under her fingertips, could see even more of the discomfort that had flashed by when he'd talked about Rodney and his comments.  They'd had enough post-mission chats for her to have a pretty good idea what he'd needed.  She shook her head apologetically, "Instead you ended up dealing with a blubbering boss.  I'm s-"

His finger over her lips interrupted her and he shook his head, frowning at her reproachfully, "Don't even *think* it Elizabeth.  Everyone has a breaking point.  If you're not allowed to.. does that mean you'll think less of me when I-"

She returned the favour and silenced him.  Starting to grin softly as their position registered and she saw the same wicked thought cross his mind as she was debating.  And she never could let him win these teasing matches.  Before *he* reached action stage, she tilted her head and took a gentle bite on the side of his finger.  And then realized she, *they*, hadn't been thinking very clearly, because there was no way for the touch to be anything but intimate...

No way for her to deny the way his breath caught against her finger, the very sexual focus in his eyes even as he whispered her name, making her shiver as the tip of his tongue touched her skin.  Making her aware of the other hand he'd kept innocently on her hip; he wasn't pushing her in any way.. but she could feel the weight of that hand increase, held in place but wanting to apply pressure.  Her hesitation was only because her mind was awake now, and thinking.  And as much as she still accepted their relationship was changed and changing; still, these last inches of space between their lips were thick with risk.

But then, she'd chosen to step through a shimmering blue curtain into another galaxy.  *That* woman wouldn't hesitate to lean over and kiss the man who loved her!  And whom she loved.  No.  And neither would *this* Elizabeth Weir.  Her finger traced the familiar quirk of lips, her eyes meeting the acknowledging warmth in his before she pressed, encouraging his lips to part before she breached the distance between them and kissed him. 

Softly and gently, wanting a memory more to *her* tastes than Phebus' demands.  Wanting more of the gentleness John had alway given her.  And she got it; caring and cherishing, with need communicating itself in the hand he'd slid from her lips to her nape.  He was half-guiding her, encouraging her to let him take detours between kisses, touching a closed eyelid, or lightly trailing his way to her temple.  It wasn't a prelude to anything other than itself.  Their bodies were tangling together as they teased each other with just-too-short forays into deeper intimacy, laughing at bumping noses and long hairs sticking to lips.  There was too much emotional drain still clinging to them for anything more to be any kind of idea today.

And as he went on another nibble expedition across her cheeks, she sighed happily, even though she couldn't help bringing a dose of reality to their protected little corner of the universe.   Whispering quietly, un-demandingly, "This isn't going to be easy, you know."

She recognized the slight backward movement of his head as going with rolled eyes that she couldn't see, recognized the even tone as John's version of diplomacy, "Not being able to help you is *hell*!" He snuffled his nose to her neck, holding her as she tried to shudder her way out of his arms with a squeak,  "Nothing 'worth it' is *easy*.  I just want.. you."

She stopped wriggling when he stopped tickling and pulled back, continuing her half-hearted reality check through the melting warmth his words had induced, "The IOA is going to hate the idea of.. 'us' almost as  much as your military."

John snorted, "They're not *my*  military.  And we'll... deal with them."  He looked away momentarily, unable to make blind promises, not when he knew her career could be damaged from being with him.  She cupped his jaw and guided him back around to face her, to brush her lips with his before making him face her unflinching gaze.  Yes, alright, it was her choice.  But that didn't stop the slightly guilty feeling that he was being greedy by asking for more than friendship.  Oh well, it was too late to protect her... Wait, now how..  He couldn't help but start wondering, finally blurting out the question, "Did I give myself away, last night?"

Elizabeth shook her head, looking pensive as she spoke, "No.  I think.. I've known for a while.  I just always managed to push it aside before it could settle in."

He nodded self-deprecatory agreement, more than able to understand semi-wilful denial.  And unable to pretend he hadn't shown his cards at other times in the past.  "And now?"

"Now?" His body reacted to the meltingly hot look she threw him, "Now we go and find some food.  I'm starving."  She dove out of the bed before he could pay back the tease, laughing as he growled over missing his flying grab for her hand.

Lying where he'd landed crooked on the bed, still sending her a mock-fierce scowl, John watched the smile on her face as she disappeared into the bathroom, finally laughing himself as he turned on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a goofy grin.  Listening to the sound of not being alone.  Smelling body-warmed sheets impregnated with Elizabeth's perfume.  Ha!  Who said wishes never came true??

\---------------------------

"..because there's going to be talk if you walk through the halls in a wrinkled uniform?"

John looked at the woman that had fallen back to look him over and now came back to walk next to him, wearing *fresh* clothes, then looked at his own less than pressed ones, "Talk about what?  That you forced me to sleep fully dressed for being a bad boy?"  He waggled his brows at her with a smirk, glad they weren't encountering too many people as they went to sneak a late lunch.

Elizabeth shook her head at him, much more reserved than she had been in her quarters, making him wonder if that had been spillover from the night before or.. a new Elizabeth he might be privy to now, at least when they were somewhere private.

She looked around as though casually before adding in a teasing undertone, "And the stubble burn on my neck?"

He took a minute to examine the blushing skin above her high-neck sweater, wincing at the occasional scratch, "..that's tougher." He pretended to return her responding half-annoyed glare, then smiled, feeling sorry for the discomfort, "Trying to tell me to start following the grooming regulations a bit more?"

Elizabeth leisurely ran her eyes from his boots to the highest tip of his hair, particularly 'interesting' after a night on her pillow, then grinned at him, "No, the eye candy is fine as it is.  But a shave before you try anything wouldn't be a bad idea."

John Sheppard leaning on a corridor wall, laughing his heart out, turned out to be quite the attraction.  If people had been in cars, there'd have bee a slowdown all the way to the cafeteria by the time he got himself under control and wiped the tears away.

No, of course there wouldn't be talk.

\----------------------------------

After lunch and an argument -their first as a couple, he hesitated to think- when Elizabeth tried to cut her holiday short, they detoured by John's quarters so he could put on some clean clothes; and wordlessly bring another change with him.  Wordlessly because he wasn't willing to argue with her -again-, but had no intention of leaving her alone to have nightmares; or decide to work through the night.  If she didn't want him in bed now that she wasn't overwrought, he'd grab a chair or take the floor; but he very seriously wanted her to catch up on her sleep. 

The fact that she didn't comment on his rolling his toothbrush and a pair of underwear in a dark tee that he shoved in a pant pocket let him hope he'd get to share the mattress again though.

At the last second he grabbed his tablet, making an educated guess about the likely course of the rest of the day.

And indeed, his attempts at rerouting them to the media room for a movie hit a stubborn wall, and once they got to Elizabeth's quarters, she told him to make himself at home.  Then grabbed her own computer and started to work, sitting on her bed, leaning against the wall.  As much as he didn't love it, at least she was in her quarters; not her office or somewhere equality reachable, and since she'd agreed to continue taking her time off, Teyla and Rodney would make sure she didn't get called.  For Elizabeth, that was practically the equivalent of taking a cruise.  So he just joined her, lounging with his head next to her feet, reading the digital version of War and peace that Elizabeth had downloaded for him on Earth after his book was destroyed during the siege.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was just as strange for him to be off like this.  A part of his mind knew that he was supposed to be working today.  And as much as he-

"Dammit, why do I feel guilty?"

John blinked at hearing his own thoughts coming out of Elizabeth's mouth.  Still, he wasn't giving her any excuse on this one or he's never get her to relax again, "Seeing as you're working on your day off, I can't imagine."  Never mind that he'd been well on his way to convincing himself to be a good boy and do his own reports!

"This isn't work.  This is stuff I would do at night; long-term planning, personnel file updates, research-"

He could hear the frustration in her voice and looked over to give her a teasing grin, trying to cheer her up, "So that mean that *I* get you tonight, right?"

Naturally she ignored that, frowning at her screen, "I should be at work.  At my *real* work, being seen.  Being the leader of Atlantis, not.. slacking off-"

Damn it, she was going to convince herself in another minute!  He reached out and put a hand on her thigh *making* her look at him.  When she jumped at his touch and gave him a self-conscious look, he got a hint that this wasn't just stubborn habit to work rearing its head, and changed his argument.  He hesitated, watching her carefully as he spoke, "Elizabeth.. do you want to hide how we feel about each other?"  He could arrange for her to be kept away from work even if he was officially on duty if that made her more comfortable.  It would be harder and almost as obvious but-

She reached out quickly hold the hand he had on her thigh, "No!"

He squeezed her hand back, meeting her worried look with a nod of  understanding, "Okay.  Then everyone is going to know that you watched someone you..."  His mouth opened and closed a couple times as he suddenly couldn't decide what word to use.

He was about to give her a pleading, pitiful look when she smiled indulgently, "Love."

He didn't wait to catch his breath, "-someone you love be tortured.  If anyone else went through that, you'd be the first to order them to take time off.   You're giving the *right* example, Elizabeth."  He was talking too fast and holding her hand too tight, but he couldn't help it.  As much as he needed to get his point across, he also really needed to have a minute to absorb the word 'love'.  He settle for staring at her fiercely as he finished, "And any damned idiot who doesn't see that is going to be be meeting my fist in the training room."

He almost wished he hadn't mentioned that last bit when she suddenly frowned, "John-"

On the other hand, start as you mean to go on.  Elizabeth should know him better by now.  "No.  Anyone that stupid is a danger to have around and the sooner they get shipped back to Earth, with no more than a well deserved self-defence lesson, the better.  Best way to avoid people getting killed from that same stupidity coming out in the field."  He wasn't putting up with Kavanaugh-wannabes going after his private life; after Elizabeth.  He could almost *hear* her lecturing him already for it, but that was fine.  As long as the jerks were off Atlantis, he could handle a private dressing-down.

Elizabeth answered without heat, seeing the stubbornness in his face, "You can't-"

"Yes.  I *can*."

She glared, knowing it was a waste of time.  Knowing this was going to be one of those sources of trouble.  But today wasn't the day to have the fight; he hadn't actually *done* anything yet.  So she settled for pulling her hand back and grumbling under her breath, "Stubborn macho males!"  At least she had some warning, she could probably arrange some preventive measures.  Or...  As he settled back down to his reading with a last stubborn outthrust-lip *look* toward her, she let her mind wander to previously-forbidden fantasies; maybe, almost *certainly*, she could catch John Sheppard in a weak moment.  And maybe a promise of good behaviour could be extracted, using suitable bribery... or threat.

  
He didn't seem to be aware of the fact that she hadn't done anything on her computer for a while, was, in fact, staring at his body quite shamelessly, if she did say so herself.   She grinned, his feet, in particular, were very conveniently located within very easy arm's reach... "How do you feel about being tickled?"

He looked up with laughing eyes and a smirk at her idly-voiced question, "As long as you avoid getting yourself kicked, I can stand-"  He didn't get a chance to say more as she put her tablet on the night table and then grabbed his ankle with her left hand, tickling the sole with the fingers of her right.

\------------------------------------

By the time he begged mercy, his tablet had fallen somewhere off the bed, his tee was skewed halfway up his chest, one sock had disappeared, the other was holding on to his foot by a toe and the beddings looked like a tornado had hit.  And Elizabeth knew a few things about her military commander that she was going to be sorely tempted to use the next time he argued with her...

First thing first, though, "You actually *like* being tickled??"  Even while he'd twisted and spun and, yes, come very close to reflexively kicking her right across the room, he'd also been in some unascribable way, 'happy'.  As well as screeching like a girl when she got to his ribs!

She was sitting on his hip as he lay on his side, arms still around himself protectively as he slowly caught his breath, so he had to turn his head to meet her very 'curious' gaze, "Not a lot of people get close enough to me to even think about it.  It's.. nice to have someone who cares." 

Oh no, the melting puppy eyes!  Mentally shaking her head at her own lack of fortitude, Elizabeth lifted up, encouraging him to lay on his back, and then leaned over, hands on either side of his head.  "The word, is *love*."

John grinned, seeing the stubborn spark of Elizabeth set on getting what she wants, beyond glad to see that part of her back.  Nightmares would come, but those they could face together now. 

He wondered if she could read his brief temptation to tickle her back.  But she was so very conveniently positioned...  He slipped an arm around her hips and the other to her shoulder blade and rolled her under him, grinning as she squeaked in surprise.  He caught the worst of his weight on his forearms, but left the rest of his body pressing into hers as he leaned to whisper in her ear, "Yes, the word is love."

  


**Author's Note:**

> Oh! and my little detour into the brain in sleep was caused by needing a plot device at the same time as I [Stumbled](http://www.stumbleupon.com) on [this article](http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=how-snoozing-makes-you-smarter&print=true)


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